


And We Adore Her

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29540496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: She's allowed to be greedy.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 8
Kudos: 150





	And We Adore Her

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Possessive Tobin_

It's different tonight, being on the field. Tobin's stood here a thousand times before, hundreds of different stadiums. She's played in more games than anyone could ever count, from a time she was too young to even remember doing it. But what she does remember, what she does know, is that this time, this match—it's never felt like this before. 

She's never felt like this before.

Soccer has always been the first thing in Tobin's life, the first thing on Tobin's mind. For years, as a child, a teenager, a young adult, it took precedence over everything else in her life—over family, over friends, over God. Sure, she could celebrate those other things, she could appreciate them and find joy in them and love them too. But whenever there was a conflict between soccer and anything else in her life, it was the sport that won out. Because there was soccer, and then there was everything else.

Always. 

But today—tonight—for the first time, it's different. For the first time in as far as she can remember, as soon as Tobin takes the field, she can't wait to get off of it. And sure, soccer has been taking a backseat in her thoughts, in her life, more and more often the older she's gotten. Other things have become more important, and soccer, less. But not like this. Not like tonight, standing here on the pitch and looking up to the stands—the boxes above—smiling when she finds her whole new reason for existing up there watching, and realizing that this is the beginning of the end of Tobin Heath, global soccer star. 

And maybe the most surprising part of it all is just how absolutely okay with it she is. How absolutely right the thought seems as it crosses her mind. 

Tobin takes a deep breath, taps two fingers to her chest before raising them to the sky, and then turns, hops, and takes her first steps into the rest of her life. 

— — —

Ninety minutes. Two goals and an assist. But Tobin doesn't care. As soon as she can, as soon as she's free of her post-game "Player of the Match" interview she's jogging down the tunnel toward the locker room, certain that Christen will be waiting there for her already. 

She isn't wrong. There's a small crowd gathering in the entrance to the locker room, her teammates and their DC opponents, all circling around Christen, everyone eager to talk to their teammate and friend, to get a glimpse of the little bundle safe and secure in the wrap against Chris's chest. And Tobin smiles, because she understands. She gets it completely, the magic of this woman, of the sweet baby girl they've brought into the world. But even though she gets it, she has no plans to let them keep her from where she wants to be. "Move," she says in a loud, firm voice, but there's no bite behind it, and the crowd parts just enough to let her through, everyone well aware that Tobin isn't afraid to push herself through them all if they stand in her way to reaching Christen's side. 

"Hey, baby," Chris gives her a wide smile, reaching out with the hand that isn't cupped just under the curve of their little eight pound miracle. (Already back up to and over her birth weight according to yesterday's weigh-in, Tobin remembers proudly.) "You were amazing out there tonight." And the older woman blushes just the slightest under the praise, glad that most of the team has dispersed, eager to shower and change and meet up with their own families and friends waiting out in the stands. And Tobin, too, is sweaty under her warm-ups, and in pretty desperate need of a shower. But right now? More than anything she needs this. 

She leans in, nuzzling into her wife's long, loose curls. "Missed you out there," Tobin whispers softly as she breathes in Christen's scent—warmth and spice and love—before using just the tip of her finger to push back the warm blanket that's worked well to hide her newborn daughter's face from prying eyes so far. "Missed you too, baby girl," the winger strokes the baby's soft cheek, smiling as she sees that tiny face, Christen in miniature, scrunch up, ready to wake and howl in displeasure at the disruption to her sweet baby dreams. But just a whisper from Christen, a gentle rocking, and those blue-green eyes are closed again, the storm easily soothed away with her mother's touch.

"How was it?" Tobin adjusts the blanket, tucking Willow in again, safe and sound in the sling. "Too much, too soon?" Because that had been her worry when her wife insisted that she was up for the game. But Christen just shakes her head with an amused smile. 

"I told you I wasn't missing any more games," Chris gives her a soft hip check and grins. "Letting you talk me out of coming to last week's match was bad enough." And Tobin just shakes her head, still not entirely past the desire to cocoon away with her brand new family in their home, forgetting the entire world outside. Chris laughs at the look on her face, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "It's time to share us again, Toby," she teases before wrinkling up her nose. "And time for you to hit the showers, you're kind of rank." But there's a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth even as she gently pushes her wife away. "Go on, hurry up. The quicker you get clean, the quicker we can get out of here." 

And that, as far as Tobin is concerned, is all the motivation she needs. 

— — — 

She's not the last one out of the locker room, but it's close. Close enough that by the time she steps into the room where Chris said she'd be waiting, hair still wet and dripping down her back, a crowd has gathered again. And Tobin sighs to herself, because she knows—they're not making it home any time soon. Sonnett had already burst into the locker room, the place she'd once called home herself, and told Tobin how excited she was that they were all going out for dinner as soon as she finished cleaning up. 

"Give me," she steps into the crowd and sees her daughter in Kelley's arms. "Now," Tobin holds out her hands to her friend, her tone brooking no argument, and though her friend looks like she wants to object, she carefully hands the baby over. 

"God, you're greedy," Kelley teases her old friend, giving her a fake scowl that she can barely keep for a minute before the wide smile blossoms across her face again. "You get her all the time, I just wanted a quick snuggle." 

But Tobin only shrugs, cradling her tiny daughter against her chest in a way already so instinctual, already so second-nature. "Get your own," she says, offering no apology, even as she feels Christen's fingers skim over her back. And that, of course, makes her smile. But it's a smile that no one would confuse as anything other than the barest, rawest kind of love. 

Her wife.

Her daughter.

She's allowed to be greedy. 

Still, Christen nudges her, and Tobin sighs, softening. "We're going to get food with folks, I guess you can hold her then. When you're sitting down. And only after I see you wash your hands, like, with actual soap," she offers half-heartedly. "But, like, only for a minute. I meant what I said, get your own." 

"I'm working on it, Tobes, trust me," Sonnett calls out from somewhere behind them, and Tobin smirks at the blush that's spreading across Kelley's face. And there's laughter from the women around them, but nobody laughs louder than Tobin, who knows exactly how much Kelley wants to be a mom. And will probably let their friend hold Willow as much as her too-big heart desires once they're back home, where Tobin doesn't have to worry about strangers or germs or the whole new catalog of fears she has now that she's a mother.

Christen strokes over her back again, and Willow lets out a big yawn, smacking her lips in the way that means she's going to need to be fed pretty soon. And Tobin takes a moment just to breathe in, to look around at their friends and family, all these woman so eager to celebrate with them, to share in their love. 

"Okay," she sighs, though it's more for show than anything, "I suppose we could just order food. And everyone can just come over to ours." 

This is her life, Tobin figures. 

And she fucking loves it.

**Author's Note:**

> "Give Me Flowers," Julianna Zachariou


End file.
